


A Wonder and a Wild Desire

by PJVilar



Category: Were the World Mine (2008)
Genre: First Time, Future Fic, High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-01
Updated: 2012-07-01
Packaged: 2017-11-08 23:07:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/448557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PJVilar/pseuds/PJVilar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>TItle taken from Robert Browning's "The Ring and The Book: Book One".</p>
    </blockquote>





	A Wonder and a Wild Desire

**Author's Note:**

> TItle taken from Robert Browning's "The Ring and The Book: Book One".

Your mom comes in to the dressing room right as you pull back from Jonathon. His hand is still on your chest, thumb tucked down beneath your undershirt.

“That was incredible, Sugar,” she says. She smoothes your hair back, then snatches her hand away. Your heart sinks because here you are again, better and then not.

But the next moment seems sprayed with magic potion. Your mom puts her hand on Jonathon’s shoulder as he rises to his feet.

“You did a great job in your part, too, sweetie,” she says, and oh God oh God.

Jonathan slides his hands into his pockets but the smile on his face is like his arms thrown around you.

“Thank you, ma’am. But Timothy is the star.”

When you ask her if you can go to the party, she only nods and says she’ll take your wings home.

\---

“My star. My true North. Timothy.”

He breathes these words over your face between kisses, full and soft. Desire seems to skate along the surface of you both. It’s the first time you’re kissing like this for any length of time. You know for certain that he loves you.

Sadly, you’re in a lawn chair with Solo cups scattered at your feet. Friends and classmates are “giving you space”, by gasping and running away every time they stumble across the two of you, joined at the lips.

You kiss his cheek, then the other one, and mentally talk yourself out of going for his mouth again.

“Let’s go inside and join the party.”

Instead of looking disappointed, his face lights up, showing dimples and pride.

“Not afraid, huh?”

You rise from your lawn chair and crush a cup under your boot. Funny how you’re actually not embarrassed.

“No,” you say, wonderous, and you walk inside together.

 

\---

Cole’s house is more or less what you expected, except you’re in it, along with Frankie and Max. They sit in a tight group, along with a few others, Frankie is curled up in a big grey armchair and Cole, improbably, perches on the arm. Frankie has her acoustic and one eyeliner spiral still shining on her cheek. She and Cole sing back and forth, bits of rock songs, things on the radio. A girl you don’t know tries to harmonize, here and there. Max sits on the floor, drumming on his thighs. The chain in his pocket jangles along.

You’re happy to watch. A couple of people urge you to join in but you just point at Frankie each time. She smiles at her knees, unused to being the center of attention.

Jonathon stays by your side until Max comes over to chat, mostly about how fucking awesome his girlfriend is.

“I could have told you that,” you say. “Oh, wait, I did. For like, three years!”

Jonathon excuses himself to get you more drinks, his face politely blank. You wonder just how much he remembers.

\---

There’s a view from the second floor landing of the trees that is utterly beautiful. It’s deeper and darker than the enchantments of the last few days but still it has this beauty and mystery, all from simple oaks and maples. You trace your fingers on the railing and hope the people who live here appreciate it.

Soft footsteps sound behind you on the carpet and you don’t even have to turn around. Jonathon’s broad chest, which you’ve seen so many awesome times now, moves in against your back. He nuzzles his head against your shoulder and speaks around you as you wrap yourself up in him.

“Everything alright?” Some sort of cacophony swells up from downstairs amid the ongoing pulse of music.

“Just wanted to see what was up here,” you reply and turn to him.

“Um. Bedrooms,” he says.

You stare at each other, mutually artless in any seduction techniques. It feels like right before you sang for Ms. T. for the first time. The fearful anticipation just before something amazing happened.

And Jonathon looks at you just like he does when you sing. He keeps looking at you as you hold out your hand, and he takes it, and walks you down the hall that apparently leads to nothing but beds.

\---

Cole’s door was shut and his sister’s room -- just, no -- so you walk into what must be his parents’ room. It’s huge and looks kind of like the hotel you stayed in when your parents first took you to New York City, when you were ten and the three of you could still act happy.

A small light glows from the corner -- it’s the adjoining bathroom, Jonathon says -- and you don’t even try to switch any lamps on. The mattress is hard and the coverlet is laundered stiff just like in that hotel. Everything is pale with tiny florals.

You can do whatever you want now, whatever you both want. Jonathon said it, he feels like himself. You feel more like yourself than you ever have. The last few days of love via love-in-idleness came with the price of stopping things at tender kisses and more tender embraces.

You’re in love for real now, and your clothes are coming off and you don’t stop.

“Shit,” Jonathon says. He sits up on the edge of the bed. He has no shirt on and his breath is coming fast. You can tell from how his back moves, as that’s all you can see.

“What am I thinking,” he says into the hollow dark. Just before your heart leaves the scene by way of your stomach, he crawls up over you and kisses you, the sweetest kiss yet.

“What?” you ask. You deserve a thousand points for still being able to speak with his body on top of yours like this.

“You’ll see,” he says, with the self-satisfied smile, the one you might like best.

\---

This town is alive to you now. Crazy what it took to get there, but it’s accepted you, more or less. You can accept it now, too. The main street and the fire station, the benches with the iron scrollwork. It all looked so precious when you first moved here. It still does, but the idea doesn’t fill you with contempt as you watch the town unfold out the passenger window of Jonathon’s mother’s station wagon. You accept it.

He parks as close to the lake as he can and cuts the engine. “I thought it would be better here.” Beyond his voice you can hear frogs, maybe crickets and a wind that promises summer is close at hand. He hesitates. “ In our place.”

“It’s perfect,” you say. You’ve never described anything that way before, ever. “I can talk to my mom. About you staying over.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” It will be mortifying. It will require practice conversations with Frankie beforehand. But she will say yes. You look him in the eye when you ask, “Do your parents know?”

“They don’t really understand.” He shakes his head and laughs. “Feelings, I mean. But I’ll tell them.” His whole demeanor changes back to how it was before the spell broke: desperately ardent. “I’d never hide you.”

“I know,” you say. Rather than reassure him, you open your door.

\---

You walk together to the edge of the lake, blankets in your arms. He shucks off his henley like he’s changing in the locker room and after that you undress him. You understand what is in your hands, what is in your care. He pulls you down to kneel beside him and does the same.

You touch his rugby hardened legs with your hands and your mouth. You breath in the smell of his skin at his knee, at his groin, at his neck. He rubs you everywhere like he wants to learn your shape and your responses. This, too, feels like singing, or maybe the singing felt like sex only you didn’t know that yet. You can let out everything inside you and make everything beautiful for you both.

Above you, the stars shine, points of light barely even visible to the eye. It’s a little too cold, which only makes his skin on yours seem warmer and more necessary.

“Baby,” you blurt out, then feel stupid, then don’t, because his cock is moving with yours now and he gasps a little at what you said. “Timothy,” he says, low and honest. Neither of you can quite figure out how this works without stops and starts, but it’s good. You come first and you can feel his approval all over your skin, as he pets your hair and praises you. When he follows, he bites his lower lip and buries his head against your neck, overwhelmed.

You stay there until you’re both freezing, and then you lie together in the back of the car, talking about home and rugby and theater and the future. This is your place, yours and his. The world is your place, at last.


End file.
